We believe that animals are quite intuitive to the goings-on in the world. If only we have the eyes to see and the ears to hear what they have to say.

48 hours later – Tuesday, August 23, 2011:

I was at work when the earthquake hit. My first. Ever.

I was on the phone when the woman on the other end started screaming that her building was shaking. As soon as she said that, the floor underneath my own feet shook. It started out slowly but gained in strength until I actually felt as if the building was rolling on a wave.

Later I would find out that the East Coast suffered a 5.8 earthquake, originating from Mineral, Virginia. But at the moment, I was living through my first earthquake and my first thought was to call Zen Master and Zen Mum.

And the phone just rang and rang.

Strangely enough, although the cell phones weren’t working, I finally got through to them by land-line.

Zen Master had been in the kitchen, reading his Chinese newspaper. Zen Mum was in the living room, watching TV. When the earthquake struck, the house trembled. Thinking that a neighbor was getting carried away with renovations, Zen Master didn’t pay it any mind until things started falling off the table.

And that was when he jumped up and raced to the living room to get Zen Mum.

However, she didn’t move from the sofa.

“What was that?” she asked as she watched Zen Master race into the room.

“Earthquake! Earthquake!” He grabbed her by the hand and dragged her to her feet. “We got to go!”

And they stumbled out into the street, joining neighbors who had reacted faster and were already outside.

I thank God that they were all right.

I, on the other hand, wasn’t thinking to get out of my building.

I actually stayed.

I don’t know why I did that. Maybe because I was in denial, because there wasn’t supposed to be earthquakes here. I live in Maryland, for goodness sake!

Maybe it was because I believed that I was not in harm’s way.

Maybe it was because it couldn’t possibly happen to me.

When all was said and done, I did what any sane person who survived her first earthquake would do.

I went to Happy Hour and devoured an order of Truffle French Fries.

Later that same evening, finally safe and sound at home with Zen Master and Zen Mum, I stood by my bedroom window and finally heard them.

“It’s so quiet.” Zen Master muttered with a slight frown. He said this a moment after we left the house, but I wasn’t really paying attention.

Zen Master, Zen Mum and I were out and about, doing our usual nothings on a bright, sunny Sunday.

In the midst of our power-walking around the high school track, Zen Master glanced around the trees and remarked again about the quiet.

While we were grocery shopping, while I was lugging bags of foodstuff out of the shopping cart into the car trunk, Zen Master looked up at the blue sky and mumbled .

While we were window-shopping around the mall, again as we stepped out into the parking lot to go home, Zen Master tilted his head towards the sky and paused.

This was happening all day long. It wasn’t until we finally came home that I finally bit the bullet and asked.

“What’s so quiet?” I watched him look back up at the sky and glance around for something. “You’ve been acting funny all day. Are you okay?”

“There’s no birds.” Zen Master remarked. “There hasn’t been any birdsong all day. No crickets singing. No anything.”

That was when I became aware of his observation. There was no sound. No wind. No birds. No crickets.

Just…silence.

“I wonder where all the birds went.” Zen Master murmured. “It’s just so strange. I wonder what’s going on.”

This reminded me of the Chinese folklore that he loved to tell me about once in a while. The condensed version was that on the 7th day of the 7th month of each year, all the birds would disappear and there would be utter silence across the land. They all were helping the children of a Goddess visit their immortal mother in only that one day out of the entire year.

What is bright, golden white, something that I crave with a fiery passion of a supernova that leaves a scorcher of intense color?

Why, the beach, of course!

WE. HEART. THE. BEACH.

There’s absolutely something about the the warm sand and the cold ocean under my feet that leave me speechless in awe. The salty air. The ocean wind, the mouthwatering smell of greasy broadwalk fries and grilled onions wafting on it.

On the morning of our last day, Zen Master and I woke up at 5:00 AM to catch the sunrise. When I asked Zen Mum if she wanted to join us, she just grunted at me before rolling over and falling back to sleep.

Call me a romantic sentimental fool, but I just wanted to breathe in the morning salt air and witness a sunrise on our last day at the beach. Zen Master certainly thought so.

Until he started walking the broadwalk with me that early morning.

We didn’t speak much. We just meandered in the cool morning air, listening to the sea gulls screeching, the ocean waves crashing.

It was relatively empty, except for the occasional jogger or power-walker.

It was lovely.

So after strolling up and down the broadwalk, it finally was time for the brilliant sunrise.

According to the weather almanac, it was supposed to rise at 5:58 AM.

And was it brilliant?

Did we witness the fiery ball of golden nature?!

Was the sky blazing with phoenix fire?

Uh, nope.

Not this morning.

C’est la vie.

“This is the first time that I’ve seen a sunrise at the beach.” Zen Master said.

“Really?” I asked. Although it really was quite overcast and nary a hint of orange sunlight. We watched as the skies lightened.

“Since I’ve been in the United States.” He murmured. “The last time I saw a sunrise was when I was still in China.”

That was food for thought, really, because he’s been in the US for over forty years.

I read somewhere that in order to truly move forward, one needs to reflect back and remember where one came from.

A year ago:

I was a year younger.

I was blogging regularly.

Zen Master and Zen Mum puttered along with me, when they’re not working at their schools.

Now?

I’m a year older.

I blog not so regularly because I’m in between mini-projects.

Zen Master and Zen Mum are going to be grandfolks in a couple of months.

I’m going to be a first time auntie.

Zen Master and Zen Mum are still puttering along with me, when they’re not working at their schools.

According to Brian Williams of NBC Nightly News, we’re living in a year with record-breaking weather-related events, such as the most hurricanes, floods, and earthquakes ever in history.

The other day a friend and I were at the gym, chatting as we stood in line to get into the Zumba class.

She (discussing her reason for going back to school for nursing): I’m 30 years old and I was going nowhere. I hated my job and I just wanted to do something that would give me meaning. I mean, time was just going by and if I didn’t do something about it now, it was just going to fly right by me and I’ll never get another chance like this again! I mean, I’m 30 years old!

Me: Wow. That’s great.

She: I mean, my husband and I had a long talk about it because I would have to quit my job and go to school full-time with student loans. It’s going to be tough on us for awhile, but I mean, it’s a long term investment. I just had to do it! I mean, I’m 30 years old!

I’d wondered how she would take it if I told her that I was ten years older than her?

But that’s beside the point because what she was saying was the point.

I’ve actually been pondering on my own direction for the last few months. Hence, that’s why I’ve been throwing myself into a handful of personal projects that have been eating away at my time away from blogging.

All for the purpose of trying to figure out the answer to the Question.

Question: what’s next?

Which has ultimately lead me to think about my bucket list. Maybe I should stop thinking about it and start doing something with it.

Am I going through a mid-life crisis?

Maybe, but here begins the pursuit of answering the Question. Is it a coincidence that I start this on my one-year birthday?